


12 Days

by gangfriend (orphan_account)



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 101 Boland Children, Annie Marks - Freeform, Beth being stressed, Christmassy stuff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, How many times can I include the word christmas, Slow Burn, Stressed fluff, dad Rio, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gangfriend
Summary: 12 Holiday Brio one-shots.  12 prompts based on each of the Twelve Days of Christmas.They will be loosely connected, and set in a post season 3 timeline.Meeerrrryyyyy Christmaaaassss,
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 28
Kudos: 117





	1. a partridge in a pear tree

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lovely, lovely sdktrs12, who wrote the Halloween prompt series of my dreams. I hope to add a Christmas twist :). 
> 
> Prompt 1: Pear

• _pear •_

* * *

December 1st was circled three times on her calendar. Once in green ink, again in red, and a final time in black – she’d traced the third on an evening late November, phone propped between her ear and shoulder. The shrill voice on the other line was tittering on and on about the _importance_ of fundraising, the _community-building_ opportunities it presents. Unable to get a word in, Beth had clenched her hand around the nearest pen and drawn furious, smudging circles around the date.

When she noticed how the angry black lines clashed with the dainty green and red pen clouds, her nose scrunched in annoyance.

“I’ll make the tart on the 1st, Sharon. That way, it will be chilled and ready for sale."

Yes. I’ll be there.

Mhm. I’ll be there.

Yes. I can stay until the end.

I know.

It’s been a busy year.

I know.

Of _course_ I’m committed.

Okay. Bye now.

Yes. Of course.

I should really get goi-"

Beth’s cell was bouncing on the couch across the living room before Sharon’s phony ass could add the “rry” to her “Merry Christmas”.

Now, the day had arrived. November flipped over into December and those black circles were laughing at Beth from across the kitchen. Her watch glared 10:00PM, her limbs felt like lead.

She had to keep going. 

December 1st had always been an important date in the Boland household. Not a special one per se, just one Beth was keenly aware of, one that required preparation. She prided herself on consistently being one step ahead of the Christmas rush and therefore, getting a head start was key.

And ... The holidays were more important than ever this year, not just because of Sharon’s unoriginal, tired idea for a bake sale - _for God’s sake_ , _people eat enough junk this time of year, no one wants to pay_ money _for some grubby-handed stranger’s dry gingerbread -_ but because last Christmas was… well, it had been a disaster.

For starters, their house had been empty, still freshly robbed, so the tree looked a little out of place.

No money either. She recalls sitting at a cafe, her feet cold and damp inside her boots, while gently suggesting to Judith that perhaps ‘she could sign the gifts “From: Grandma, _Mom_ and _Dad_.”'

Judith met the suggestion with pursed lips and a wordless reach into her purse, yanking out her cheque book and ripping one off.

“Buy your kids some Christmas gifts.”

“Judith , I-“

“Tell ‘em its from Santa.” Her tone clipped and unkind. Shame bloomed from Beth’s fingertips like the steam rising from her untouched coffee.

This year would be different. It had to be.

Three white lightbulb-ed candelabras shone from each front window.

Their quilted advent calendar was ironed smooth and hung under the stairs while tinsel curled the railing.

Four hand knit stockings adorned the mantle and the dining room table was glittering with a centerpiece of gorgeous hand-crafted ornaments, silver and blue, set in a frosted glass bowl.

The kids would be home tomorrow.

_She had to keep going._

Beth laid the final slices of thinly cut pear onto a delicate almond filling. She was careful to spiral the fruit clockwise, adjusting a slice or two as she surveyed her work. Her shoulders were throbbing. She placed her tart in the oven.

Sliding down the counter onto the floor, she was just about to shut her eyes and tilt her head against the cupboard door – an action that felt… unreasonably relaxing in the moment… when her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Where you at?”

Beth stared at the text alert until it was a fuzzy grey blur.

The phone buzzed again.

“??”

Rubbing her eyes with the heel of her shaking hands, she pressed the call button.

“Elizabeth.”

“I forgot.”

There was a huff, followed by muffled Spanish. She could practically hear the scowl, the eyerolls.

“My tart is in the oven.”

“Take it out.” 

“I ... can’t. The filling would gel, and then it won’t be even – and .. and the pears - they burn so easily so I can’t just leave it in..”

Her voice was starting to crack. She could feel hot tears creep into the corner of her eyes. She bit her tongue hard, she can’t _cry._ She won’t _._ Not over a tart, a tart that - _jesus_ \- isn't even that complicated, and certainly not to him.

God, who was this woman? Defeated on the floor after just one day? She used to thrive at Christmas. That glimmering purpose she'd feel scanning Pinterest, choosing the latest trends, pinning the most difficult desserts - it just wasn't there anymore. Instead, she felt washed up, exhausted. Not nesecarily from the days prepartions, but from chasing down and forcing that familiar, shiny spark. She was exhausted from trying to concoct even an ounce of Christmas spirit from this year of bitter losses and bourbon-fueled anxieties. 

“Can you just swing by here? Please?”

She must’ve sounded a new sort of pathetic because after a long pause, there was an affirmative grunt.

Beth stayed on the floor, unable to summon the energy required in hoisting herself up, and braced herself for a lecture. She could hear it now.

_You either in or you out. What d'you think this is huh?_

_It doesn’t seem like your very committed._

No, wait, that last part was Sharon. 

What did it matter – they were all disappointed in her. Her kids would be too, when they realized this Christmas would be ruined just like the last, that their Mom was a fraud, a failu-

Weight dropped down heavily beside Beth, accompanied with a gravel sigh. Her bones jolted in response, had she drifted asleep? 

Head tilted to the side, his deep brown eyes caught her gaze. He didn’t look as angry as he had in her imagination, just… tired.

Well, that makes two of them.

“Aint it a little early… for all this?” His hand waved gestured vaguely outside the kitchen.

“Dean’s dropping the kids home tomorrow.”

“So what? Still got like… a month.”

Beth sighed loudly, resigning to his logic while also attempting to signify that… it's more than that.

“Cash is on the couch”

His chin jerked in a slight nod, but made no move to get up.

They sat together on the floor in silence for a beat or two, the oven’s hum providing a melancholy soundtrack.

“What’s the pie for?”

“it’s a tart. Its …… for a bake sale tomorrow.”

She caught a smirk tugging on his lips at the obvious disgust in her voice.

Rio pushed himself up off the ground, but paused, leaning back on his haunches to face her. He rubbed his face as he studied hers. 

“Why d’you do all this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sign up for all this shit. I’ve had bad days but shit, I ain’t ever cried in the kitchen after midnight.”

Beth wiped her cheeks, finding them damp. _Dammit._ She shrugged a small shrug.

His hand reached out, gently swiping her nose. Flour drifted to the ground between them and a laugh bubbled up in her throat.

God knows what she must look like right now, red cheeked and covered in baking goods.

His fingers continued to trace her face, slowly sweeping her bangs away with his pinky finger, tucking them gently behind her ear.

“See you next week, yeah? Same time.”

He stood.

“Don’t forget."


	2. two turtle doves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dove

• _dove_ •

* * *

It was cold out this morning, but a pleasant, sharp cold. The kind that tints your ears red and colors your nose. There was no wind, and no hint of dampness in the air. Emma had woken up early, anxious to “get ready” for a sleepover that wasn’t even happening until after dinner, but instead of coaxing her back to sleep, Beth had decided to embrace the dawn. There was something about crisp winter air, the way it bit your lungs and clouded your breath that made her feel a certain type of alive.

So that’s what landed Beth outside on the picnic table, wrapped in her favorite grey throw, cupping her first coffee of the day.

She could hear the kids playing around the side of the house, happy squeals interrupted by the odd whine of “DannYY” or “Stop it!” but it was all music to her ears. Beth was content in contemplating a day of pancakes, maybe some cheesy Hallmark movies, all while blissfully ignoring the fact that due to this holiday boom – there was no way she could even consider taking a day off from Boland Bubbles. It had been slammed from open until closing this Friday, and the weekend would be no different. 

Well… it _was_ still early, she didn’t have to be in until 9. Dean wasn’t coming by for the kids until 8 :30 so maybe pancakes were in the cards after all. She could squeeze it in.

“Hey now”

Maybe not.

“Mom! Emma won't give me a turn feeding the pigeon. She's taking forever with it and I wanna touch it.”

Okay, definitely not.

Jane’s rambling screeched to a halt as she took in Rio, who had appeared by the door. 

Beth closed her eyes, an attempt to pay her respects to this once peaceful morning, when she felt Rio sweep past her– catching a whiff of his cologne.

“A pigeon hey?”

He was crouching in front of Jane. She was pulling a shy face but the eyes gave her away –sparkling with keen curiosity.

“Uh huh.” Jane darted her gaze back Beth before scurrying around the corner.

“Come see!!”

Rio shot Beth a look that could almost pass as apologetic if it wasn’t accompanied by an amused twitch of his lips.

“It’s early” she hissed as they walked side by side, following Jane’s excited hop.

“We got business.” His hoarse whisper causing anticipation to swirl deep in Beth’s stomach. Their “business” as of late had been a balancing act– a fragile thread of trust. She mostly dealt with Mick. He’d pop by the showroom after hours and double check the books. Once a week, she would drop a duffle bag of cash at Rio’s feet in an often-wordless exchange. Around and around they went.

It had been tense for a long time. She'd swallowed her pride, bit her tongue and kept her head down. 

She was alive.

She was making money.

You get what you get and you don’t get upset.

It was punctured here and there by a joke, a remark about school or an update on Annie and Ruby. Eventually, he started coming around again. It surprised her, how much relief flooded her heart at the sight of his old breaking and entering habits. Somewhere deep in her gut there was the admission that she had missed it – anticipating him, watching him navigate her house with familiarity and ease. He touched her now too, that was new. A hand on the shoulder or a pat on the back. In turn, his smoldering touch returned to her daydreams – echoed on her body.

However, to say they were back to normal, whatever that had been, would still ring an overstatement. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that they had both grown weary of the ice between them – found that most days slipping into a genial smile was easier, less work, than their typical brand of “come any closer and I swear to God” glare.

“We named her PopTart.” Emma was crouched down low.

Sure enough, a little grey pigeon was waddling in between Danny’s legs, seemingly unperturbed by the parade of tiny feet encircling it.

“'cause she likes pop tarts.” She grinned, spreading her hands, they were coated in sticky pink icing, covered in colorful melted crumbs.

"I want a TURN!" 

Rio’s laugh rang through the air, warm and sincere. He was down eye-level with Jane’s pouting face before Beth muster a thought.

“That ain’t no pigeon little mama, that’s a dove.” He spoke softly, his voice reassuring.

“How do _you_ know?”

“Easy. Listen.”

At this point, all four Boland children had fixed their attention on Rio, frozen in different tableaus – mouths slack.

Beth figured she would need at least 3 more cups of coffee and a strong drink before she could fully process the scene unfolding in front of her. Then she heard it.

A soft coo, a little whistle as the bird ruffled its feathers – probably peeved by the sudden interruption in its steady flow of snacks.

Jane giggled, and mimicked the sound in a sweet, breathy hum.

“Yeah, you got it. Just like that.”

There was million things she was going to say – 'birds can be germy', 'go wash your hands', 'Mr. Rio was just leaving', any and everything along those lines but… something about her awe in her children’s eyes, their wholesome excitement, wiped her mind clean of reprimands.

“You guys! I think you made a friend!” It was Beth’s turn to kneel low. Her children beamed.

“But pop tarts probably aren’t good for it’s tummy.”

“Your mama's right.”

“What do you say we get a bird feeder, and see if PopTart comes back tomorrow?”

There was a round of cheers as her and Rio stood up, grinning at each other having shared witness in something so endearingly strange. 

“Marcus’ new thing is peeling worms of driveways so – “

Beth laughed, feeling light. “Looks like I Iucked out then.”

Rio cleared his throat. “I need you Sunday _._ ”

Right. _Business._

“What for? I won’t have the cash until at least-“

“Not about that. There’s some people wanting to meet ya.”

“What kind of people?”

“People you don’t wanna piss off. Look, I’ll swing by Sunday. They see your face and I do the talking.”

He was tucking his phone away, shifting to leave when he jerked his eyes back to Beth.

"Also uh" His eyes flit to her body, she followed.

Oh _god_. Her pajamas. She was still in her pajamas. Cotton, button up, snowflake-print pajamas. 

“Sunday’s more of a black-tie affair. I’m sure you’ll figure somethin’ out”

Beth wrapped her blanket around her mid-section, sheepishly peering up into his twinkling eyes. 

“MOM. Kenny’s poking PopTart with a stick.”

When she turned back around to respond, Rio was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very difficult prompt........... so its a weird and short little chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. three french hens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: French

• _french_ •

* * *

“Kenny, would you please just get in the car.”

“It’s creepy! I’m not sitting on some random’s guys lap."

“Shhh!” Beth darted her eyes around, relieved to find her younger children out of ear shot and still fumbling with their winter gear.

“Mommy! My toes are stuck.”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.” Her voice lowered to a threatening hush.

“It is not some “random guy”. It. Is. Santa. “

“… Everyone at school hangs out at the mall.”

“So?”

“So?! So they might see me.”

Beth threw her arms up, and kneeled down to absentmindedly tug on Jane’s boot.

“You are coming with us whether you like it or not.” Her gut squeezing at the shrill strain in her voice, silently vowing to make it up to Kenny if they all got to the mall in one piece. It was easy to forget how quickly he was growing up, that he was changing amidst their chaos and forming an identity all his own. It felt like yesterday she had to triple check under his bed for monsters.

Beth heard the car door slam in the distance, a glowering almost-teenager sitting inside.

With paper thin patience, and a sweater that itched at the collar, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay!! Everyone ready to see Santa?”

______

  
Once arriving, the crew was in better spirits. There wasn’t much that chatter in the car, KidBopz on high volume, and the promise of candy could not fix. Beth felt lighter too, four little heads bobbing ahead of her, strolling towards the entrance.

“There they are!!” Annie was holding a venti Starbucks (some extra holiday whip cream extravaganza) with one hand and all four Boland kids ran into the outstretched other.

“Ew!!! Gross! Stooop.”

“NEVER” Annie was belly laughing while furiously kissing the cheeks of every child in reach, not letting them out of her hold. They squirmed and shrieked while detangling themselves into a bewildered giggling pile.

The scene caused Beth to step back for a moment, smell the sweet cinnamon bun air, let the distant croon of Mariah wash over her as she realized –

She had to leave… again.

Emma and Jane’s shiny faces peered up, hair tied back with matching red velvet scrunchies, and Beth felt like she had been punched in the gut.

She’d dropped the kids between Judith’s, Dean’s and Annie’s more times that she wanted to admit this season, and it was barely two weeks into December. But plans kept _changing_. There was so much that needed to be done but more than that – there was so much she wanted to prove. What woke her up each morning was her determination to reset their fate – they would be _that_ family once more, a kaleidoscope of colored paper stacked under the tree, hand decorated treats, hot cocoa for all their friends and matching PJ sets on cold nights. That’s what they deserved. Beth was sure as hell not going to let the ghosts of her Christmas past stop that from happening. 

But here they were, getting shuffled around once more.

A scene from last year sneaks into Beth’s mind. Dean had blown up their air mattresses and tucked them under the lone tree. The 6 of them slept under the twinkling lights, huddled together on Christmas Eve, Dean and Beth taking reading “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” by candle light.

_“Christmas came without ribbons, it came without bags. It came without packages, boxes, or bags.”_

Perhaps Jane and Emma didn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy had started laughing after that line – or maybe they did. Maybe Kenny and Danny were confused when that slow chuckle built to a near hysterical silent laugh, Dean and Beth wiping tears from their eyes – or maybe they didn’t care. What mattered is that they had all joined in, tiny hands holding bellies as laughter bounced off the empty halls.

Striped of everything that made Beth feel worthy, feel safe, feel like _that_ family _,_ they were together, and that had been all that really mattered.

Ben stepped out from a nearby store, hands stuffed in his pockets. He whispered something into Annie’s ear, his nose scrunched up in amusement. Beth loves that nose – a little piece of her Annie. It always brings her back to Annie’s tween years, when that nose would push into her face for a good morning kiss, or stick up, defiant, in the air. 

“Thank you for doing this”. Beth wraps her sister in a hug. “Kenny’s having a whole thing about Santa… just..

“I got it.” She's grinning. 

“And if you could get a picture of the girls together- “

“This ain’t my first time to the rodeo sis. Candy, Santa, Go on that teeny merry go round by the Gap until they puke. Easy peasy.”

“Thank you.”

Beth stayed fixed in place, staring, as the 6 of them walked away. Annie falling to the back beside Kenny. She watched as her sister bent down, whispering to him, almost out of earshot.

“How many kids d’you think would cry if you yanked down Ol Saint Nick’s fake beard?”

Ben was hand in hand with little Emma and Beth took a moment to admire his filled-out frame and broadening shoulders, kept warm under a new winter coat. She knew his studies had improved since Annie was able to bring their bank account back into black. She knew that in her purse was a wish list that was … manageable and that for the first time, the Hill’s would eat turkey this year that didn’t come from the hospital cafeteria.

There was no right answer here. Beth would keep making choices, continuing to make her bed and lie in whatever sheets she’d sewn. Hoping for the best.

And right now, that meant blowing her budget to buy a fancy dress and resisting the urge to text the man who would soon watch her wear it. 

It was thrilling, that she could not deny, entering stores she’d never once spared a second glance, striding along the elegant fabrics of each carefully curated gown. The staff were extremely attentive, and Beth took full advantage of their offer to assist– which dress would flatter her figure? What colors are in this season?

Her boldness blossomed as they complimented her shape and the blue of her eyes And oh! It was hard to miss this one floor length dress, black lace overlaying a nude slip.

“We just got this in. French lace. It’s exquisitely comfortable and would fit you like a glove!”

Beth fingered the hem, wondering briefly if this lady’s British accent was as fake as her enthusiasm for Beth’s potential purchase. “I think I’ll try it on on.”

And of course, it did…indeed…fit like a glove. She felt like royalty, her curves moving easily in the dress’ confines. It was simple, classic yet the contrast of the intricate black netting against her pale skin still made a statement.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she tentatively stepped outside the fitting room. The salesclerks erupting into reaction like were all besties on a shopping spree.

“Gorgeous!”  
“You look stunning. Honestly, honey this dress was made for you.

It _was_ gorgeous. The thought of Rio’s eyes roaming over the exposed V of her back, handing her a drink, standing by her side in matching black, made her stomach flip and churn with electricity.

“Could you… take a photo? I want to show my sister.” Annie would scream, sending her just enough emojis to justify the price tag hanging off the neckline.

Loading her messages, Beth’s fingers hesitated over the “R”.

She shouldn’t.

She really shouldn’t

But… I mean, it’s possible the dress was too much. What if she was over dressing? Under dressing? 

No harm in… just checking? Right?

The picture had come out surprisingly flattering. The creamy white storefront highlighting Beth’s rosy cheeks and confident smile.

She pressed his name.

Their last message shone bright. “Soccer is at Lakefield yeah?”. One so benign that Beth remembers double checking the sender.

Eyes squint shut and nerves ablaze, Beth sends the photo. The “swoop” of a delivered message causing her to throat to jump. Deep down, she knows she’s prying open a can of worms, inviting up desire she’d sworn to swallow. But it's addicting, and she oh, how she misses the thrill.

“This OK for tonight?”

Grey dots form – he’s typing.

Then they stop.

They appear

And stop again.

She shoves her phone in her purse, but it may as well be ringing an alarm – its’s back in her hands within the minute. She watches as the grey speech dots continue to debate.

Finally - “No snowflakes?”

A grin stretches across Beth’s lips. Giddy, she sits, swinging one leg over the other, to respond.

“Thought I would switch it up.”

There was another pause on his end. Speech bubbles stopping and starting. 

“You look good.”

Beth looks up from her phone, clearing her throat.

“I’ll take it.”

And she smiles while she watches the cashier smooth the french lace as it's carefully folded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late because i was hungover and crying to evermore.  
> I will more often then not update every other day. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one :) thank you for your comments and kudos.


End file.
